Swan Hunting Season
by myformofimagination
Summary: Dean Winchester embarks on one of his first solo hunts since his brother went off to college. But as he searches for answers, he becomes acquainted with a certain blonde waitress he met in the most unconventional way. A young Dean/Emma AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: This is an AU crossover flashback that plays around with young Dean/Emma because sometimes I obsess over Swanchester and can't get enough of it! The AU takes place right after Sam goes to college and right before the Tallahassee episode flashback. Just a quick one shot that will be a few chapters long that I've been working on for a little while now. I own neither series, nor their characters. I hope you enjoy! :)**

* * *

It was the turn of the century, and Dean Winchester was just starting to get used to traveling on his own. His brother had just left him and his father to go off to college. Dean's dad had taken the leave pretty hard, but not as rough as Dean. Sammy was his brother, and he just betrayed his family. Dean couldn't understand it, didn't want to think about it.

He'd been ecstatic whenever his dad gave him the Impala. He'd been in love with the car for as long as he could remember. Hell, it was the only home he'd ever known.

His dad was working a job in California, leaving Dean to work a few jobs by himself. He was on his way to Washington to this little town where a suspected spirit was haunting a local truck stop. Every ten years around this time, five semi-trucks and their drivers have vanished. A few days later just their drivers are found dead on the side of the road. And after the last truck disappeared, somewhere around the truck stop catches on fire. Dean had picked up the trend and believed a spirit was haunting either the truck stop or the land it sat on. He hadn't really figured out why, but that didn't matter. As long as he stopped the spirit, that's all that mattered.

Two trucks had already gone missing over the last three weeks. According to his calculations, the next disappearance would be in the upcoming day or two. Dean pulled into the motel next door to the truck stop and got a room. Just a few weeks, that's how long he predicted the hunt should take.

"The Moonlight Diner on this strip has some of the best BBQ in these parts. It's not really crowded, just a couple of truckers and travelers. The service is friendly, the waitresses aren't bad to look at either. But what they're known best for is their pie," the man at the front desk told Dean when he asked about a good place to catch a bite.

Dean was convinced at pie. He saluted his thanks to the kind man and headed out the door to his room. He grabbed his EMF monitor, his shot gun and extra rock salt shells, his lucky hand gun, lighter fluid, salt, and lighter, throwing them all in his bag. He was on his way to the town's police department to con his way into getting some of the records of the past deaths at the truck stop.

He looked out the window towards where he'd parked his Baby. He decided to keep it in the shade sort of away from the other cars parked in the lot. What he saw got his blood boiling.

Someone was breaking into his car.

He couldn't see the bastard's face, just the outline of a figure in a black hood. He grabbed his keys and ran out the door, but the thief had made it inside his car and got it to start by the time he made it out there, hitting the gas and flooring it out of the parking lot.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled. He looked around at the empty lot and noticed another car parked nearby. Dean also knew how to break into a car, so he worked his magic on the station wagon and raced to catch up with his Baby.

Dean was a good tracker, so he caught up with the thief soon enough. He noticed that the guy was driving in a circle around the town, then made their way back to the truck stop. Confused, Dean trailed the guy until he parked in the back of the truck stop strip. He parked a little ways away from him and got out of the car, securing his gun in his back pocket. He ran over to his car and opened his Baby's door, pulling on the arm of the thief rather forcefully.

"You filthy son of a bitch! You think you can just steal my car and get away with it?" he yelled as he pulled the guy out.

When Dean finally got them out and pushed them against the car, he pulled the hood off the guy's head… and a long wave of bright blonde hair spilled out of the fabric.

"I'm sorry!" the woman pleaded, holding up her hands in defense.

"What the hell?" Dean asked, total shock showing in his face.

The woman saw his moment of surprise and used it to her advantage. She pulled down on Dean's shoulder and brought her leg up to knee him in the gut. Dean groaned, toppling over in pain as the woman ran away. She got in the station wagon Dean had stolen and made her escape. Dean, still in pain, stood up and watched her drive away, still unsure of what exactly had just happened.

* * *

The research had been a bust. There were too many deaths over the last century for him to narrow anything down. He'd have to go back tomorrow or try the library to figure out what exactly he was missing.

He couldn't get the girl who had stolen his car out of his mind. The _nerve _of her to try and steal _his _car. But it wasn't just that. He may have only caught a glimpse of her, but he had to admit she was pretty. She was probably just a few years younger than him, probably Sammy's age. Definitely not the type of car thief he'd been expecting. Still, he hoped he would never have to run into the brat again.

Dean pulled into the hotel and parked the car near the front office, that way there would be less of a chance of someone trying to steal it again. His stomach started to growl, so he decided to try out the bar the guy at the desk had mentioned.

He walked down the strip and opened the door, taking a seat at the front counter. Now that he was working alone, he didn't see much of a reason to take up an entire table.

The menu in front of him looked promising, and the aroma of the BBQ was pleasing his senses.

"Welcome to Moonlight Diner, can I help you?"

Dean looked up to the waitress who stood on the other side of the bar. The same bright blonde hair that was all too familiar was pulled back into a pony tail, attached to it the same pretty and surprised face of the young woman who had tried to steal his car.

Realization of who exactly _he _was began to unfold in her eyes, her facial expression starting to drop. "Oh shit," she sighed.

Dean chuckled, of course this turn of events would be happening to _him. _He held up his hand and pointed to her, "So let me get this straight. You steal a car from the parking lot next door," he dropped his voice slightly so that those around couldn't hear him. "Then you drive it to the bar, again, right next door. Where you apparently work. Where is the reason in that?"

She scoffed, "I drove it around town first to throw off the trail!"

"You didn't throw _me _off, sweetheart."

"Well most of these country bumpkins aren't as quick as you are," she snapped in a hushed tone, looking around to make sure no one was listening.

A cocky smile spread across his lips. "What were you doing trying to steal my car anyway?"

"_Trying_? I stole it. You just stole it back," she smirked. "It's a nice car."

Dean nodded, "I think so too. That's why I stole it back."

The woman leaned down against the bar top, "You're not going to rat me out, are you?"

He looked at the desperate look in the woman's eyes and decided to drop it. "No. Just don't touch my Baby again. And next time you should try finding a car in a little less conspicuous area. Like the back of an alley or something."

"Deal," she held out her hand for him to shake. He did so and chuckled. "So what brings you here? You're not a trucker and you don't look like anyone from around this small town. Traveling?"

Dean shrugged. "Sort of. I'm from the FBI, working on a case. These disappearing truckers, know anything about it?"

"You're not from the FBI," she said matter-of-fact-like. Dean scrunched his brow, opening his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. "First of all, you wouldn't have reacted like _that _when you caught me stealing your car. Second, you don't even look like you're from the FBI. And third, I can always tell when people are lying. It's sort of a superpower. And you're lying."

His mouth had remained open as he listened to her. He closed it, unsure how to reply. Dean ran his fingers threw his hair and laughed nervously. "Well, I'm still working on the case. A bit of a free-lance detective, sort of. How about that?"

She studied him, and then shrugged. "I buy it."

Dean watched as she began to chew on the end of her pen, probably a nervous habit. She was, as he recalled, very pretty. In fact, he started to question his guess that she was a few years younger than him. But then a coworker walked behind her and paused for a moment, whispering in the waitress' ear. The coworker, very not-so-subtly, checked out Dean before whispering and when she noticed that Dean was watching, she blushed a deep read. His waitress giggled and playfully nudged the coworker away, who again made a quick look at Dean before she left the bar. Dean's ego was on fire, and he felt himself smirking at the effect he had on women. He couldn't blame them, it would be cruel if he did. But it was his waitress' giggle that revealed her youth. It was an act he bet she didn't do often; or something she _couldn't _do often. But in that moment, her sharp facial features that made her look more mature than she really was faded to reveal a youthful joy that was carried in her cloudy green eyes.

He was staring at her - and she was getting uncomfortable. He could tell by the way her eyes avoided his as she moved about behind the counter, refilling drinks and dispersing food orders.

She finally walked back over to Dean and cleared her throat. "So, _agent_, you were saying?"

Dean laughed lightly and looked down, trying to lighten the situation a little. "What'd she say about me?" he playfully asked with a wink.

She rolled her eyes, "She said that leather jacket's too big on you."

Dean frowned, and defensively straightened his jacket, sitting up a tad straighter. "Don't knock the leather threads. This is an awesome jacket and I look _good _in it."

She shook her head and bit her lip, but smiled nonetheless. "Do you want food or something? Or are you just staying here to bother me?"

Dean chuckled. He did need to concentrate. He was here on a job and he needed to start finding information from the locals. What better way than by asking his waitress? "So do you know anything about the truck disappearances?"

She creased her brow, obviously surprised by his question despite that he mentioned he was working on the case. "Well, I've only been here for a few months. But I was here on both of the nights that those two truckers disappeared. I usually work the late shift, just me and a couple of other people in the bar. I tried to tell the sheriff what I saw, but he said it was bogus."

Dean leaned forward a bit, "What did you see?"

She smiled and shook her head, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"I bet I'd believe a lot more than you'd think," he smiled back.

She bit her lip and looked around the quiet bar, probably making sure those around couldn't hear her. She exhaled a deep breath, readjusted her black rimmed glasses, and leaned down against the bar again. "It was probably just my imagination. But that's what I told myself the first time. A couple of weeks ago, around 2 am, there was this strange fog outside. There were only a few truckers in the bar, so we weren't very busy and there wasn't much for me to do. I went outside during my break for some fresh air and noticed one of the semi-trucks pulling out of the station. But as it pulled out onto the road, the fog began to grow thicker and I could barely see in front of me. A few seconds later, it lifted… and the truck was no longer there. No tail lights or head lights down a ways on either side of the road. Just, nothing. When I looked back at where I thought I saw it last, I swore I saw a woman. But the fog was heavy, so it could have been my imagination."

"Then what happened?"

She shrugged, "I couldn't really make anything out. I thought I was going crazy seeing things, and eventually I talked myself out of it. But then the second truck went missing. That night was just the same. The time, the fog, the atmosphere. I was cleaning off a table when I looked out the window and saw another woman. Just standing in the road. But like I said, the sheriff said it was nothing."

"How did he know it was nothing?"

She pointed towards the gas station, "There's a security camera that has a clear shot of the station's entrance. When I kept insisting that there was someone there, he let me see the footage myself. The fog was so thick, it made it pretty difficult for the camera to focus. But you could faintly see the truck pulling out on the road. Then the picture went fuzzy for a little bit, but the sheriff said that happened a lot with old equipment. And then the truck just wasn't there anymore. But there was no woman either."

Dean felt himself wanting to roll his eyes at the sheriff's equipment excuse. He hated the local police because they just didn't know the truth. They didn't know what was _really _going on out there and they ended up screwing up the crime scene when he and his dad got there. But he kept his attention on the waitress and her story. "What did she look like?"

Her eyes looked up and her nose scrunched up a little, as if she were trying to draw up a file from her memory. "She was pretty far away, and it was foggy – but from what I could see, she looked almost transparent and pale. Especially against the darkness. She had long pale hair and she was wearing this torn up dress. She was just standing in the road, and then the next second, she wasn't."

Dean thought back to the records that he had looked through earlier this morning, trying to see if any of the descriptions fit the one his waitress was telling him. He decided that tomorrow he would go down to find some more city records.

The waitress rose an eye brow, "Does that help any?"

"Yeah, yeah definitely. Thank you," he nodded.

She smiled, "No problem. So, do you want something to eat?"

"Only if you tell me your name," Dean smirked.

She shook her head, biting her lip. "Emma. Emma Swan."

"Dean Winchester," he held out his hand and they shook again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I changed the state they were in from Colorado to Washington. In case anyone notices lol. I own nothing. Enjoy!**

* * *

The next night Dean returned to the diner. He'd been doing research all day trying to put a match to the description Emma had told him. He'd narrowed it down to two cases.

Matilda Ansley, a woman in her mid-thirties who died in a car crash on that road. But there was nothing about a semi-truck or missing case, so that didn't really fit the motive.

And Delilah Smith, a woman in her mid-twenties who was last seen walking along this strip of road. There was no further information on her death, except that she was found lifeless on the side of the road a mile or so from the truck stop.

Delilah was his best case, though he had to be sure. He decided he would ask Emma if there were any told legends or stories about the disappearances.

Speaking of, Emma approached him at the bar, a smile on her face. "Back again."

"Steal any more cars today?" Dean asked with a smirk.

Emma chuckled, her cheeks turning a shade of pink. "Same as yesterday?" she asked, ignoring his jest.

Dean nodded, "And after some pie. I heard you guys had the best!"

"We do," she giggled, "which kind would you like?"

"Hmm, got any pumpkin?"

She shook her head, "That's the only kind we do not have. Sorry pal."

Dean groaned, "Give me whatever your favorite is, then."

As Dean ate, Emma hung around and they talked. Just as the motel manager had said, the bar really wasn't all that busy from what Dean had seen so far.

"So what are you in Washington for?" Dean asked. "Going to college somewhere or something?"

Emma shrugged. "Nope. I don't really like staying in one place for very long. I've actually been thinking about moving on down to Oregon next whenever I'm sick of this place. Maybe make my way down to California or something. What about you, Mr. Free-Lance Detective? You from around here?"

Dean chuckled, "Nope. I'm a traveler as well. Never in one spot for more than a month or so. That's pretty much how it's been my entire life. On the road with my dad and little brother. Now I'm on my own, working cases and solving mysteries."

As they talked about some of the places they'd lived in, Dean learned quite a bit about the strange woman in front of him.

Emma had just finished a story about how she ended up in Colorado, having had to flee from a job at a grocery store when she decked her manager for one sly remark too many. He'd been a thug and an awful manager, hitting on most of the cashiers and taking credit for most of the work the assistant tried to manage. Emma had caught him trying to make an unwanted move on one of her fellow cashiers and she intervened. When he pushed Emma backwards and tried to grab her coworker, he called Emma a few choice words and degraded her. Well, Emma had swung hard enough to knock her manager out on his back. She didn't stick around long enough to find out what had happened after that. Dean had chuckled at her story, impressed.

"So where are you from originally?" Emma asked.

He cleared his throat, "Lawrence, Kansas. But I haven't been there since I was like 4 years old. I don't plan on going back either."

Emma's brow creased, "Why not?"

"Just, a lot of bad memories I'd rather not relive," Dean replied with a shrug. Emma nodded understandingly.

The diner was starting to clear out as the late night began to set in. Emma looked out the window and she tensed. Dean was good at reading people's body language, so he noticed the slight change in expression. He looked out the window and noticed that a thick fog was coming in.

"Is that how it looked the night the trucks disappeared?" Dean asked, reading her mind.

She nodded, "How did you know?"

"Mind if I stay and see what happens?"

"Really?" Emma asked. "You really are into this case, huh? Do you think you'll catch whoever is stealing the trucks?"

Dean shrugged, "Couldn't hurt to try."

They spent the next couple of hours talking, occupying a small table away from the group of truckers crowded around the jukebox and pool table.

"I told you where I was from, what about you? Originally, that is."

Emma moved her mug of hot cocoa nervously between her hands. He noticed that she added a sprinkle of, what seemed to be, cinnamon. Not that he drank a lot of cocoa, but he'd never seen anyone add anything besides marshmallows to their cocoa. He thought it was very enduring, and it made him smile.

"Maine. Just this place in the middle of nowhere," she replied.

Dean rose an eye brow, "You ever been back?"

"No. Not sure I want to."

Dean knew that reply and that tone in her voice. "Why not? Something happen?"

Emma cleared her throat and looked down at her hands wrapped around her mug. "That's where I was left alone."

"Left? What do you mean?"

She bit her lip and continued to avoid eye contact. "My parents. They, um – they died. Car accident."

Dean watched as she talked, studying her tone and gestures. "Bullshit."

Emma, surprised by his reaction, opened her mouth to reply. But Dean held up his hand.

"You're not the only one who's good at knowing when someone's lying. I've gotten pretty good at finding people's tells. I've won a lot of money that way."

Emma scoffed, "I'm not lying! How can you say that?"

Dean shook his head. "Listen, I don't know why, but you're lying. I know what it looks like to have a parent die. My mom died when I was four. That's why we left Kansas; that's partly why I haven't been back."

Emma started to protest, but stopped. She sighed deeply. "Fine. They didn't die. They abandoned me. Just left newborn Baby Emma on the side of a road in Maine." Dean's face dropped and he tried to apologize, but Emma held up her hand to stop him. "Please, it's ok. I don't need your sympathy. I've been in the foster system my entire life. I finally left when I turned sixteen. That's when I stole my first car and just drove. Far, far away. And I've been driving ever since."

"Good for you," Dean held up his beer and they toasted.

One of the truckers called for her attention and she briefly had to serve them another round. Then she sat back down with Dean, and he noticed that she seemed a bit less nervous after her sensitive secret was revealed. He decided to keep the rest of the conversations light. They talked about their favorite music, and Dean was impressed to hear that Emma enjoyed the same classic rock that ran through his veins. They talked about their favorite movies, activities, books. Emma even suggested a few books by Kurt Vonnegut that Dean found himself really itching to check out.

It was almost 2 am when Dean began to get a strange feeling. The kind of strange feeling you started to listen to when you'd been in his business long enough. He checked the clock and began to look outside.

"I'm going to go outside, you stay here," Dean instructed, grabbing his bag and heading outside.

He walked out the doors towards the area Emma had described the truck pulling out of. He looked back to see if any trucks were getting ready to leave. There was one.

"God, it's cold out here."

Dean spun around and saw Emma catching up to him, pulling a bright red leather jacket around her uniform.

"Emma! I told you to stay inside!"

She scoffed, "Like I have to listen to you. I can help! Remember the way I made you topple over whenever you were stealing your car back? And the story about my old manager?"

Dean huffed and rolled his eyes, now worried that he was going to have to fight some ghost and keep Emma safe. This was going to be a bitch to explain to her afterwards. He wasn't looking forward to that.

The truck driver began to fill up his truck, "You have one last chance to get back to the diner where it'll be safe." Emma only shook her head and crossed her arms. Dean rolled his eyes and reached into his bag to pull out his shot gun. Emma's eyes widened. "Don't worry, it's filled with rock salt."

"Rock salt?"

Dean pulled out his EMF and switched it on. He handed it to her, "Tell me whenever that starts to go off."

Emma took the device with a tentative hand. "What is this? A busted up Walkman?"

"Listen, this case isn't exactly a _normal _one," Dean explained as the truck started up. "Be alert and if you see anything _strange_, speak up!"

Emma was still a bit skeptic, but she nodded.

The truck began to pull away from the pump, and Dean noticed the fog began to thicken. He heard the EMF start to wail.

"What does that mean? What is this? What's going on?" Emma asked as she started to panic.

The fog grew thicker and the truck drove closer to the road. As soon as the truck came to a stop at the stop sign to turn onto the road, a spirit appeared on the road.

Without hesitating, Dean jumped in front of the truck to stop it from going forward.

Emma watched as the woman she had described the day before appeared on the road. A loud growl filled the air as the woman lunged for Dean, who rose his shot gun and waited until the woman was right in front of him. He shot her, and the woman disappeared.

Dean turned around and yelled to the truck driver to go quickly. Confused and a bit dumbfounded, the driver followed Dean's orders and pulled out onto the road as the fog began to clear.

Once he made sure the truck made it down the road safely, he walked over to where Emma stood.

"What the hell was that?" she finally said.

Dean checked to make sure that there were no more trucks that were planning to leave. If the spirit worked on such a specific schedule, she wouldn't come back that night.

"How about we go back into the diner and get some pie?" Dean motioned for them to return. She silently followed him.

When they got back into the empty diner she stood in the doorway and crossed her arms. "Ok. Explain. What was that _thing_ and how did you know how to get rid of it?"

Dean sighed and took a seat. "It was a spirit."

She rose an eye brow, "A spirit. So what are you, some kind of ghost buster now?"

"Sort of," Dean smirked. "I'm a hunter. That's what we did, my dad, brother and I, whenever we were traveling. We hunt supernatural things. Like that spirit."

Emma scoffed, "Yeah, like I'm going to believe that. You're crazy."

"You are calling _me _crazy after what you just saw?"

"I don't know what I saw!"

"I told you what you saw!"

"Enough!" Emma held up her hand to stop Dean from continuing. "I've had it with your crazy nonsense. I'm not a child, I don't believe in ghost stories. I don't know what that was out there, but I know that you're dangerous and I want you to _leave." _

Dean sighed. He figured he would get used to this response from people whenever they found out what it was he _really _did, but it still frustrated him. Well, maybe this case was a little different. He didn't want Emma to think he was crazy. He wanted her to understand, to listen to him. But the chances of that were growing slim since she was kicking him out of the diner.

He looked back one last time before he walked out the door and saw an Emma who wouldn't look him in the eye. He shook his head, and left.

* * *

**"curve-goddess: love this plot cant wait to see it develop" Thank you! :) I'm excited to develop it! **


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